


Recollection: DBD Killers X Reader

by ThrowTheDice



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrowTheDice/pseuds/ThrowTheDice
Summary: All of the requested killer pieces from my old blog: slashthedice. Who says being murdered can't be sexy?
Relationships: Adiris | The Plague/Reader, Amanda Young/Reader, Anna | The Huntress/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Reader, Frank Morrison/Reader, Herman Carter | The Doctor/Reader, Lisa Sherwood | The Hag/Reader, Max Thompson Jr. | The Hillbilly/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	1. NSFW: Legacy (Trapper)

**Author's Note:**

> Request: "Ok, I almost forgot... Forget about vanilla Evan. Evan + breeding kink is where it IS AT"

You had never seen Evan like this, never seen him so downright  _ feral _ . His grip on you was bruising, manhandling your flesh with his massive hands. He was like a beast looming over you, wholly consumed by his purpose. And his purpose was apparently screwing your brains out and filling you with his seed.

You couldn’t even remember what exactly you said that set him off-- some errant comment about wanting children in another life or something-- but you could clearly remember the look that had crossed his features in the aftermath. His pupils were blown wide when he lunged for you, forcing you to the ground beneath him. He took you by the hips and dragged your body against his, curling his hulking frame over you and caging you in as he spread your legs. You could do little but squeak in surprise and displeasure as he tore through your pants like they were made of wet paper. Your underwear followed, leaving your lower body completely bared to him. He freed himself from his overalls, thick cock bobbing and twitching tantalizingly as he hovered over you.

He wasted no time taking himself in hand and shoving into you. You yelped at the burning stretch of his girth inside your unprepared sex, gritting your teeth as hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. He grunted at the feeling of your tight walls around his heated length, flesh gripping flesh like a vice. One of his hands stayed locked on your hip, but the other coaxed and prodded you into struggling out of your shirt and bra. He kneaded the soft weight of one of your breasts, the rough pad of his thumb brushing and teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

He withdrew his cock from you with a torturous slowness, savoring the way you clenched around his retreating member. He stopped when only the head remained inside you, taking a moment to survey your trembling form. You always looked so perfect splayed out as you were-- legs spread only for him, the burning heat between your legs meant only for him, each and every one of your needy, wanton sounds  _ only for him _ . You looked even better with his cum overflowing your cunt, and he felt a fire ignite in his core when he thought of you carrying his child, his legacy.

With that thought in mind, he yanked you into his first harsh thrust of his hips. You cried out, hands gripping at his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself against the brutal pace he set up. He rocked against your cervix with each hammering roll of his pelvis against yours, filling you to bursting with every stroke. Blood rushed in your ears, but you could hear the sound of Evan growling and panting over it. You bit down on your lower lip to stifle a moan. You were helpless to resist as he pushed and pulled your hips in time with his thrusts, tossing you around as easily as a ragdoll.

You cried and whined as pleasure began to swell in your core. It felt like a wildfire burning through you as thrumming pleasure built in your sex. You clenched in time with each frenzied shove of his length into your willing cunt. His thrusting reached a tempo of desperate ferocity, and one hand reached between your bodies to settle heavily on your abdomen, stroking at the area where your womb would swell and fill with child. 

Half drunk off of the overwhelming ecstasy, you began to babble, not thinking about what consequences your words would have.

“Oh, Evan, cum inside me! I need you to fill me up. Please, please,” you begged.

He groaned, hips stuttering slightly before resuming their work of brutalizing your lower body. His hold on your hips was bruising, thick fingers digging into your heated flesh. Your skin was slick with sweat, but there was no distinguishing between what was yours and what was his. The air was thick with steam and the scent of sex. Your thighs tensed around his hips as you felt yourself begin to crest the peak of your pleasure, body teetering on the brink of climax.

Evan slammed into you one last time before stilling with his hips locked flush with yours. A deep, rumbling moan was your only warning before you felt the heat of his release flood through your sex. The sensation snapped the coil in your core, and you cried out as white light burst behind your eyelids and bliss wracked your form. You came down from the high in a languid, lingering haze. You felt completely boneless, supported only by Evan’s grip on you.

Exhausted and weak, you could do nothing but watch through heavy eyelids as he lifted your hips, angling you so that your weight was supported almost entirely by your upper back and shoulders along with his strong hands at your waist. You could feel his release dripping slowly from your abused slit, warm against your already heated flesh. You groaned your objection at the feeling of his calloused fingers at your entrance, fearing more stimulation. Even as tired and sore as you were, you couldn’t deny the warm tingles that buzzed through you when you realized that Evan wasn’t initiating another round, but rather carefully collecting his seed and pushing it back inside of you. It seemed he had no intention of letting a single drop go to waste.


	2. Soft (Trapper)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Can we get a soft Trapper blurb??"

Evan always,  _ always  _ gave off so much heat. He was like your own personal furnace when he held you, and you could never get enough of being held in his strong arms. He felt solid and safe, a feeling that you were starved for in the Entity’s realm. He would never admit it, but you knew he loved to have you tucked under his chin and pressed up against him too.

The times that you could indulge in such moments of intimacy and closeness were few and far between. You could hardly ever take a moment to allow yourself to relax and melt into Evan’s embrace without fear of being caught by the other survivors or called away to trial. You had to seek them out, to steal those moments for yourself when you could.

You found Evan on the MacMillan estate and fell into his hold as quickly as you could. He welcomed you into his arms happily, drawing you into his body with one hand against the small of your back and the other cradling the back of your head. Neither of you said anything, but you heard him inhale deeply before releasing a slow, contented sigh. He was as warm as always, and his slow heartbeat beneath your ear was the most comforting sound in the world. For that moment there was nothing but the two of you.


	3. Lakeside - Secrets Pt. 1 (Trapper)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "DBD Trapper and a lakeside evening date scenario(or any other date place scenarios) please? (Love your hcs btw!! Very cute!)"

Keeping secrets in the fog was hard in general. Keeping the fact that you were dating one of the killers? That was damn near impossible. You had been meeting Evan in secret for quite some time. At least, you assumed it had been a while, it was hard to know if time was passing at all in the Entity’s realm. You judged the length of your relationship on the number of times you had snuck away from the campfire between trials for heated makeout sessions or hasty hookups deep within the shrouded forest surrounding the clearing, which was to say a lot.

This time, however, you wanted things to be different. You wanted this time to be special. Using a piece of broken mirror and what little you had available to you, you did your best to make yourself look as clean and put together as possible. Only when the fractured reflection you saw in the surface of the mirror shard looked presentable did you slink away from the reaching fingers of the crackling fire, allowing yourself to sink into the shadows and fog at the treeline. You made a beeline for your usual meeting place, outside of hearing range of the campfire.

You got there before your murderous lover, but only just. As you stood in the dark beneath the gnarled branches of a dead tree, you felt your pulse quicken and the blood pound in your ears. Even outside of the trials, your body reacted when he came near, indicative of the fear you were meant to feel. You kept your back to him, pretending not to notice even when he was close enough for you to hear the heavy fall of his footsteps across the forest floor.

Large arms wrapped around your waist and Evan pressed the hard planes of his body into your back, resting his chin atop your head. You always felt small compared to him, but you couldn’t recall ever feeling safer than when he held you like this. You reached back to stroke his cheek and jawline with your cold hands, smiling to yourself when you found that he had already pushed his mask up allowing you to feel his face unimpeded.

“Took you long enough,” you joked.

“You know what they say about good things and those that wait,” he responded easily, voice husky in your ear and sending warm shivers through your body.

“I’ve got something special planned for tonight.”

You could basically hear the smirk and raised eyebrow in his voice. “Oh yeah?”

You turned in his arms to press your palms to his chest and raise yourself onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. The feeling of your lips caused a pleased rumble to roll through him, sending vibrations through your smaller form. While you would have loved to remain in his hold and kiss him until you were both lightheaded, you had put a lot of thought into your plan and you were going to follow through.

You pushed yourself up as far as you could so that you were as close to his ear as possible. “You’ll have to catch me first, though.”

Before he could even process what you had just said, you ducked out from beneath his arms and sprinted off into the woods. Your unexpected actions left him stunned, so you got more than an adequate head start. He was much faster than you, even when you were in a dead sprint, so you were beyond grateful for those few seconds you had stolen.

You had rehearsed your escape plan again and again in your head. You just needed enough time to make it to your objective. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drum, and were it not for the unending stamina everyone in the Entity’s realm had been granted, you were sure your lungs would be burning. You grinned and giggled as the chill air whipped across your face and the dead leaves crunched beneath your running feet. This was the first time since you had found yourself in The Fog that you were running without fearing for your life, and it felt amazing.

You burst into the clearing that you had stumbled upon between trials. The sight of moonlight on water the first thing to greet you, quickly followed by the sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore. You knew Evan would be hot on your heels, so with what time you had you did your best to arrange yourself prettily on the nearly threadbare blanket you had placed there earlier. You tried to look sensual and seductive, but an eager grin was quick to overtake your features.

The increased intensity of your beating heart let you know immediately before Evan broke through the brush shielding the little lakeside clearing from view. He looked around the area, seemingly unfamiliar with his surroundings. You were pleased to know that your secret spot was indeed a surprise to the killer, knowing that he had been in the Entity’s realm the longest of anybody. He had brought his mask back down over his face for the chase, but you still knew exactly when his gaze landed on you.

He was a hunter by trade, and you knew the thrill of the hunt was exciting to him. Even from your spot beside the water, you could see the predatory glint in his eye. You shivered in anticipation, body warming under the heat of his stare. You knew after your little stunt he would like nothing more than to take you hard and fast beneath the open sky and the moonlight, but you wanted to take your time. You wanted romance.

You patted the empty spot on the blanket beside you. If this were a normal date, if you had just been two people outside of the Entity’s grasp, you would have candles and wine. You would make love beside the lake and beneath the stars while your song played on the radio. But those weren’t your circumstances, so you were making do with what you had in the stolen moments between trials.

He approached you slowly, almost like a predator stalking its prey, but you were far from afraid. In fact, you could hardly contain your excitement. He sunk to his knees, looming over you.

You gave him a soft smile and gestured to your face, indicating that you wanted the mask off once more. He complied without pushback, shoving the bone mask up his head until his features were revealed to you. You reached for him, taking his scarred face into your gentle hands, trying to express all the love you felt through your touch and your expression. You pulled him down towards you and once more he obliged your silent demands, leaning in to kiss you with a tenderness you rarely found in him.

You found yourself smiling into the admittedly chaste kiss. You slowly slid your hands down his face to his neck, before leaning further into him to wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid the jagged metal embedded in his shoulder. Evan took this as a sign to pull you against him harder so that he could wind his arms around you and deepen the kiss. You spread your legs to accommodate the thickness of his muscular thighs as you found yourself across his lap. As he leaned forward to lay you down against the blanket, you found that you didn’t care that you did not have all the normal accoutrements for a date. You had Evan, that was all you really needed.


	4. Sabotage - Secrets Pt. 2 (Trapper)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Maybe a prompt after the date with Evan. Other survivors finding it out and starting to give you a disadvantage during trials. But this time, they try to sabotage you, and it turns out... the killer is no other than your secret lover, Trapper."

You felt sick to your stomach. You had always been so careful, but this time you had been in too much of a rush to make sure you wouldn’t be found, that your secret wouldn’t be discovered. You had been careless and foolish to believe that you wouldn’t pay the price for it.

The Entity had been constantly throwing you into trials, and it seemed that when you had time between them, Evan was in another. You didn’t feel like you were asking for much, just a few stolen moments to hold and be held. As strange and incomprehensible as it seemed, Evan was a bright spot in what otherwise would have been an existence of darkness.

When you finally managed to steal those moments together, it would have been an understatement to say that you were both impatient. You didn’t make it as far into the forest as you normally would before neither of you could keep your hands off of each other. You couldn’t even be bothered to fully remove your clothing. 

Your shirt was pulled up above your breasts, and while your pants had managed to find their way to the forest floor, removing your underwear would have taken too long. You found yourself supported by Evan’s strong arms hooked under your knees and your back pressed against the rough bark of a tree. You held tight to his neck as you gasped and moaned as quietly as possible. The crotch of your panties were pushed to the side so that he could thrust up into you. His grunts and moans in your ear were intoxicating, adding a whole new layer to your pleasure.

A particularly hard thrust drew a gasp from you and you opened your eyes wide at the spike of pleasure that shot through you, only to gasp again in horror rather than pleasure. A handful of meters away, you spotted Dwight looking at you with a look of dread and disbelief that you were sure was mirrored on your own expression. While you could do nothing but stare for a moment, you quickly came to your senses.

“Evan! Evan stop!”

Your sudden shrieking had the desired effect of surprising your lover into halting his movement and pulling back to look at you. He saw where your eyes led and glanced in that direction. When his eyes found Dwight, you felt all of him tense.

When the killer’s eyes fell on him, Dwight took off running. 

Evan pulled out of you fully and set you down. You scrambled to put your clothes back on, all while freaking out.

“Shit! Fuck! He’s going to tell everyone, we have to stop him!” You cursed and ranted.

“And do what?” Evan growled. “I can’t kill any of you outside of trials and even if I could he’d still remember what he saw.”

You pulled at your hair in frustration. “I have to talk to him.”

Without another word to or even a glance at the man standing beside you, you sprinted in the direction you had seen Dwight go.

You liked Dwight well enough. He was a team player most of the time, and was quick to help out. However, being a team player meant that he was going to reveal your secret to everyone else if you didn’t stop him. He had one hell of a head start on you, and you quickly realized that there was no way that you would be able to catch up to him before he got back to the campfire. Your only hope was that he would still be trying to process exactly what he had seen, and wouldn’t say anything just yet.

That hope was dashed when you stepped into the clearing. 

Everyone was gathered around Dwight. He had apparently just finished frantically regaling everyone with what he had just been witness to, looking scared and upset with his arms still raised from his animated speaking. All eyes turned on you as you stepped out of the brush, looking disheveled and winded. You were hard pressed to find anything but disdain and disgust in the expressions surrounding you. The damage was done, and in one fell swoop you found yourself a pariah amongst your peers.

From that moment onwards, you were an outcast. You knew what they were thinking. How could you possibly be sleeping with a killer? You were sure they must have felt betrayed, you had broken whatever tentative trust there was between survivors. There was a certain solidarity amongst all of you that came from being hunted together. You had to work as a team to escape, and teams were bound by an unspoken contract to work as a unit. How could they trust someone that had strayed from the unit to consort with the enemy?

At first, your punishment was just that no one would talk to you around the campfire. You thought that some of the other survivors would chastise you, but none of them said even a single word to you. Then, once you got into a trial, you realized how much further the cold shoulder went. If you were hooked, you weren’t going to be rescued. Items would be retrieved from chests before you could get to them. If you were injured during a chase, no one would heal you. You would have no warning about where or where not to go. You didn’t make it out of a single trial alive.

It was one hell of a disadvantage, but still you persisted. You soldiered on, taking not only whatever the killer dished out to you, but your fellow survivors as well. In trials, you did what you could and then accepted that you were on your own when the killer finally caught up with you. You faced your group imposed punishment with a sort of grim stubbornness, refusing to give in to hopelessness or despair.

However, just because you understood why they did it to you, it didn’t mean that you were happy about it.

Your vision came into focus as you were transported into the latest trial. You recognized immediately the ramshackle building before you as the entrance to the mine on the MacMillan Estate. Your fellow survivors called this area the Suffocation Pit, and even though you knew that this place meant something to Evan, you tended to agree with them. Everything about the mine was suffocating. The darkness was overwhelming, the air seemed thick and hard to breathe, even the energy here felt intent on crushing you. 

You looked around, intent on finding a generator and getting to work as soon as possible. A grey and rusted bear trap lay unarmed a couple meters away from your feet. You felt a mixture of emotions seeing the metal device. Evan was the killer, but you felt that that would not help you.

The two of you had come to an understanding regarding your time in trials together. Despite your relationship, there were two undeniable facts: Evan was a killer, and you were a survivor. You would both play your parts and do your jobs as you would with anyone else. Evan would kill, and you would survive. If that meant he caught you and threw you up on a hook, then so be it. However, that did not mean that you wouldn’t drive that shard of glass you had hidden in your waistband into his shoulder to escape. Sometimes he might “accidentally” miscalculate how long it would take for you to wiggle out of his grasp or “lose track of you” long enough for you to find the hatch.

You had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be like that in this match.

You had not spoken to Evan since the two of you had been discovered. If you were being honest with yourself, you had been avoiding him. It was a silly thing to do, you told yourself time and time again, but for some reason you just couldn’t bring yourself to face him. In all the time you had alone with your thoughts between trials, you mused that perhaps you were punishing yourself. Not for what you had done, you would never regret being with Evan, but for getting caught. No matter your reasoning, you doubted very much that he would appreciate your absence.

You settled in behind a generator, getting to work on repairing it. It was difficult on your own. You heard a generator click on somewhere in the distance and were briefly frustrated. If your fellow survivors would just get over themselves and help you, then you could complete the generators faster and escape that much sooner. They were hurting themselves as much as they were hurting you.

Finally, your generator sputtered to life, the lights above it blinking on. You wiped away the cold sweat that had begun to bead across your forehead. So far so good, you thought. A hopeful part of your mind whispered that maybe you could avoid Evan for the rest of the match and somehow make it out alive.

A chill ran down your spine when you heard the crisp  _ snap  _ of a bear trap. Your blood ran cold when you heard the shrill, ear-splitting sound of the feminine scream that followed. That sounded like Meg. She was fast, but not fast enough to avoid the snapping jaws of a bear trap.

When she screamed again, you knew Evan had hooked her. The sounds were distant enough that you figured you could get some decent progress on another generator before Evan headed your way. You crept from cover to cover, eyes scanning as much as you could in the fog and gloom for that bulky form you had such intimate knowledge of. You hoped would not see him.

You came around the corner of a crumbling wall slowly, crouched amongst the tall grass. The cool strands felt like chilled fingers brushing your skin. Seeing and hearing nothing except the dead generator in front of you, you felt emboldened to take another step forward. You heard the harsh snap of the metallic jaws before you felt them.

The pain hit you all at once. You screamed with a force that burned your lungs and throat. The sound ended with a whimpering sob, tears leaving hot trails down your face just as the blood trailed down your ankle and heel. The teeth of the trap dug into the flesh of your leg with all the force of a wolf sinking its teeth into its prey. You pried uselessly at the metal. Your fingers and hands were soon coated in your own blood, leaving them too slick to get a proper grip.

You had thought that adrenaline would kick in and grant you the temporary strength you would need to free yourself and run until you could find someplace secluded and hidden to lick your wounds. Instead, all you felt was fear and despair. The boost of strength never came, and you found yourself unable to do anything but wait for Evan to come deal with you as he pleased.

You saw movement in your periphery and sparks of anxiety danced across your skin. You calmed considerably when you saw that it was Nea moving in towards the generator you had been going to work on. She didn’t even look in your direction.

“Nea,” you whispered, “help me! Please!” Begging left a sour taste in your mouth.

This time, she briefly glanced at you over her shoulder, but quickly looked away. You could guess at her thought process: as long as you were trapped, you were her security. She thought Evan would be too focused on freeing you to go after her, and that this would give her time to escape. She was wrong and you knew it, but you were tired of the poor treatment and trying to prove yourself to them all, so you said nothing further, opting to stay as still as possible to incur the least amount of pain.

You knew that your fate was nearly upon you when you felt your heartbeat kick into overdrive. You heard someone running a few meters behind you, followed close behind by Evan’s familiar heavy foot falls. You did not turn to look, could not bring yourself to do so. The groans and whimpers of the injured survivor grew closer and closer until finally they seemed right on top of you. 

David King limped past you, clutching a gash on his leg with one hand. You watched Nea’s eyes widen as she realized David had inadvertently brought the killer down upon you all. You looked up as Evan brushed past you, and your eyes met his albeit briefly. They were cold and hard behind the mask, and he tore them away from you to focus on the injured man in front of you. 

You watched the cleaver come down on David’s back, knocking him hard to the ground. You heard the man wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. Nea turned from the generator and ran, making it as far as the window before Evan was behind her, grabbing the back of her shirt and dragging her back through. He hoisted her up onto his shoulder before carrying her kicking and screaming to the hook only a few feet away from the generator she had been working on. It seemed a cruel sort of irony as the hook pierced her shoulder, and you could not help but to look away. 

The Entity’s claws began to materialize around Nea as Evan rounded on David’s prone form. You knew what would come next, you had seen it happen to others, but never from this proximity. He set a bear trap in front of David’s head and your fellow survivor groaned weakly, he also knew what was about to happen. Evan stood above David, one foot on either side of his back, before crouching and taking the dark-haired man’s head between his massive hands.

“Fuck you,” David spat, attempting to jerk his head away in a struggle he had no hope of winning.

You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. Your wide eyes were focused entirely on the scene playing out in front of you. Your stomach twisted when Evan slammed David’s face into the trap, triggering the steel spring and snapping the jaws shut. The teeth pierced his flesh and the sickening sound of cracking bone filled the air. You felt bile rise in your throat at the sight of the gore, but swallowed it down harshly.

Evan stood slowly, and for the first time in a long time you were afraid of him. He said nothing as he stalked closer, and you were reminded of how truly massive he was. You felt like you were at the base of a mountain as you cowered at his feet. Were you next? Would he crush your skull in the jaws of a bear trap just as he had with David? He had never outright killed you, but you thought maybe he would this time.

You were shocked when he knelt beside you and removed your foot from the trap with a surprising amount of delicacy. You looked to him with confusion, but his head was ducked in such a way that you could not see his eyes. His mouth was in a thin line. Your attention was diverted to the pain in your leg when his large thumb stroked the skin around your jagged wound, drawing a hiss from between your clenched teeth. When he moved to pick you up, you assumed that you were bound for a hook, but he merely cradled you to his broad chest and moved forward, into the darkened gloom.

You wanted to say something to him, anything, but your mouth could not mold around the words. You stared up at him, and you wanted desperately for him to look at you. He did not. Evan’s eyes remained firmly trained on the path before him. You placed a hand against his chest gently. You saw his mouth twitch, but still he would not look at you.

You realized what he was doing when you heard the strange hum of an open trap door. As he approached the rusted black lock, his pace slowed. He held you just a bit tighter, like he was reluctant to let you go.

“Sorry,” he nearly whispered, gruff voice vibrating through you.

Before you could process his apology or wonder what he felt he had to be sorry for, he dropped you into the yawning blackness.


	5. NSFW: Reconciliation - Secrets Pt. 3 (Trapper)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Love the way you write!! Can we maybe get a 3rd part to the Trapper story? Maybe where reader and Evan reconcile and have a sweet and romantic(and nsfw) time? If you can please <33"

When you arrived back at the campfire after that trial, the others had looked at you differently. As always, your wounds were already healed by the time you felt the heat of the fire, but that didn’t make it any less meaningful when Claudette sat down next to you.

“Nea told us what happened,” she said gently. “How’s your ankle?”

They seemed to be under the impression that you had gotten the same treatment as the rest of them. You realized then that Nea had only seen enough to witness David killed and then Evan heading towards you. Of course she would assume that he had killed you too. You had been terrified that he would do exactly that, but then he had treated you with such heartbreaking gentleness.

You thought Evan would seek you out after letting you go. You waited for him in your usual meeting spot when you could sneak away without looking suspicious, but he never showed up. As you waited fruitlessly for him, you turned your last interaction over and over in your mind. You tried to pick out the emotion that had colored his uncharacteristically quiet voice before he had let you go.

His word of choice– “sorry”– what had he meant by it? Sorry for hurting you with the trap? It was hardly the first time you had found yourself caught in its steel jaws. Sorry for letting you go? That certainly seemed a silly thing to apologize for. You couldn’t fathom what he had to be sorry for.

Trials came and went. Sometimes you were called to participate, other times you weren’t. Evan was never the killer when you found yourself in one of the many little “arenas” that you had long since become familiar with, surrounded by generators and your fellow survivors. They seemed to be your friends once more, working on generators with you and helping you out in a bind. David had taken a few hits for you, Quentin and Ace shared the things they found with you, and Claudette and Adam were more than happy to heal you when you were injured. It was nice, for a time, but you missed Evan terribly.

You finally had enough after a particularly brutal trial during which you had been on the receiving end of a chainsaw through the chest, courtesy of the Cannibal. You decided that if Evan would not meet you halfway, then you would go to him. You weren’t really sure if it would work, as a survivor the Entity tended to keep you all contained at the campfire and the surrounding woods between trials. Evan had once explained that the killers had their own areas that they stayed between trials, but that they could stalk the woods surrounding the survivors’ campfire too if they got bored. Your plan consisted exclusively of walking in a straight line in the direction Evan always came from when he met you and hoping that the Entity wouldn’t simply loop you back to the campfire or take you to some other killer’s domain. They couldn’t kill you outside of trials, but that didn’t mean you fancied getting up close and personal to some of them on their home turf.

The woods seemed far darker and more foreboding when you wandered them alone. There was a coldness that seeped into your bones and weighed you down. You had never noticed it when you were going to meet Evan, but now that you weren’t warmed by thoughts of your lover a sense of dread had settled over you. The longer you walked, the greater your fear that you were lost in the woods, walking an infinite loop.

Finally, the trees seemed to part and reveal a path to you. In the distance you could see the light of a fire. The trees began to grow scarce, thinning until there was nothing but open space. You looked around with a dawning sense of triumph as you realized that your admittedly lackluster plan had worked. You knew this place.

Your fellow survivors, ever creative, called it the “Ironworks of Misery”. The title was quite the mouthful, so you had taken to referring to it simply as the Foundry, which is what Evan called it. The building itself had begun to fall to ruin. The metal was old and rusted, and the structure moaned and swayed perilously. It seemed like the rotting husk of a once great beast, now abandoned to decompose into obscurity.

“Why here?” You wondered aloud idly, hopeful that the Entity might take pity on you, if it had truly been the one to lead you here.

You received no response, but as you continued to scan the Foundry, you noted something that was decidedly different than when you were here during trials: There was a light on in the upper level, in what you had always assumed to be the foreman’s office. You watched the illumination flicker against the iron walls, too bright to be a candle. It must be one of those barrel fires the Entity was so fond of.

“As good a place to start as any,” you muttered.

You ascended the metal stairs with as much care as was due, not keen on the idea of stepping down wrong and plummeting to the ground below. They creaked with your every step and you couldn’t help but to wonder why you had never noticed how treacherous they were during trials. Still though, if the killers that were so much larger than you could scale them without fear, you supposed that you had nothing to worry about.

You heard the clinking of tools and groaning of metal parts in need of oiling. You knew, of course, that Evan was very proud of his bear traps and did what he could to keep them in proper working order. You also knew that one of your compatriots, Jake, was particularly adept at rendering them unusable. It never occurred to you that Evan might have to repair them after the fact, and that the Entity would not simply restore them to functioning order.

You rounded the corner and entered the door to the room you had run through so many times to escape any number of killers. It looked so much different than it did during trials. Where there were normally crates and boxes, you spotted a mattress and a twisted mess of sheets and blankets. Bear traps in varying states of repair and disrepair sat lined up against the far wall. That same locker you had hidden in so many times was still shoved up against the wall to your left, although you suspected it was full of tools and materials instead of simply acting as an empty hiding space.

Looking straight ahead, you saw him. Evan was hunched over a tool bench that had taken the place of the inoperable foundry controls. He sat upon a stool that was far too small for his bulk, but soldiered on bravely. His mask grinned sadistically at you from where he had placed it on the far left of the work bench. You watched the muscles in his back and shoulders move as he continued to work on the trap, so focused was he that he had somehow not heard you approach.

“Evan,” you said his name quietly, voice barely more than a whisper.

There was no denying that he had heard you, however. His whole body stiffened before you watched the slope of his shoulders slump as he sighed heavily. He wiped the oil from his hands with a cloth as he rotated towards you. His head was downturned, and he didn’t say anything.

“I thought you would come see me,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you come?”

It was clear that you were talking about after the trial, but he said nothing in response.

“Well, say something!” It was quickly becoming apparent that this was not going how you had planned. “Why are you avoiding-”

He spoke suddenly, startling you out of what would have been an accusatory rant. “Tell them I forced you. Tell them you didn’t want it, but I made you.”

He wouldn’t look at you. His gaze was firmly on the dirtied rag in his grasp. You could see the taut lines of tensed muscle in his forearms and briefly thought that it was a miracle that he had not ripped the fabric in half. You knew he was talking about the other survivors.

“I’m not going to tell them that,” you said sharply, furrowing your brow and wrapping your arms defensively around yourself. “You didn’t force me to do anything. I want everything we have.”

You heard him growl under his breath. “Everything we  _ had _ is getting you fucked over. I’m giving you an out here, just take it.”

It felt like someone had kicked you in the stomach, but you took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “I can’t accept that.”

For the first time since you had arrived there, his head shot up and he looked at you. His eyes burned, but you could see more than the anger he was forcing to the front. “I don’t care if you ‘accept it’, that’s what’s happening.”

You felt tears well in your eyes despite your most valiant attempts. “Please, Evan, don’t do this.”

He looked back down, no longer able to meet your pleading eyes.

You took a step closer and took his face in your palms. His hands shot up and he grasped your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. You forced him to look at you.

“Please,” you repeated. Then, taking a deep breath, “I love you.”

His expression remained stoic in the wake of your confession, but you watched a flurry of emotions flit across his irises. You realized distantly that you had never noticed what a deep, rich brown they were.

“Why?” His voice was rough, harsh. When you didn’t respond immediately, he demanded it again, harder this time, “ _ Why _ ?”

“You are the best thing in my life, Evan MacMillan,” you answered firmly. “I’m not just going to let you push me away because you think you’re somehow helping me.”

“Those others-”

“Can go fuck themselves,” you cut him off.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, to argue with you. His eyes searched your face for something, you couldn’t be sure what. He opened his mouth and you thought he was going to contradict you again. What he said instead was so much better.

“Ah, fuck it.”

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you down hard to meet him. Your eyes widened, but you quickly screwed them shut and threw your arms around his neck, melting into him when his mouth met yours. The stool groaned treacherously under your combined weight as he pulled you into his lap. Your mind was far too scattered by Evan kissing you senseless for you to worry about the possibility of the little wooden seat giving way, but he had apparently taken the potential hazard into account. He stood with you wrapped around him as if you weighed nothing. Turning, he leaned you against the work bench as he cleared the surface with one hand, sending bear traps, tools, and his mask clattering and skidding across the floor.

You pulled him harder against you, as if he would leave if you didn’t hold on tight enough. Your desperation was mirrored in his movements, still holding the back of your neck with one hand while the other was splayed across your lower back to press you against him. You did your best to pour every ounce of emotion you had into the kiss, willing him to understand just how serious you were.

You broke away only when the need to breathe took over. His pupils were blown wide and he was breathing just as heavily as you were, but still he did not release you. You were sure that your face was flushed bright red and you knew your own eyes were hooded with desire. You wanted him, wanted to show him how much you loved him, and you could see that he wanted you just as badly.

You pressed your hands to his chest to create some space, but before he had time to worry that you had changed your mind, you were pulling your shirt up over your head. Your bra followed, and it was only then that Evan stepped in to help you lift your hips to remove your pants and underwear as well. You eagerly reached for the zipper on his overalls, and he was in no hurry to stop you. You were thrilled to find him already hard for you, but you gave him a few quick strokes for good measure, prompting a deep, rumbling groan from him.

You shifted to the edge of the workbench and wrapped your legs around his hips as best you could. He was so much bigger and stronger than you, you didn’t have a chance in hell of moving him if he didn’t want to, but thankfully he was in no mood for teasing. Evan slid his hand between your bodies to cup your sex. You didn’t even try to stifle your moans when he dragged his fingers through your folds. He made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat when he found that you were practically dripping for him. He pressed one thick finger inside you, prompting you to throw your head back and moan. You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand when his thumb found your clit. You were all but panting when a second finger joined the first and he curled them into you. As nice as his fingers felt inside you, and as much as the logical part of your brain knew from experience that you needed him to prepare you like this before you had a prayer of taking his cock without feeling like you were going to be split in half, you were beginning to grow impatient. You really needed him to fuck you.

Either he was just as impatient as you were, or he could read your mind. He withdrew his hand from your heat and smeared your wetness across his length. He pulled your hips down to meet him before lining himself up with you entrance and pushing in. He groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him, the sound vibrating through your smaller form. Your breath caught in your throat at the stretch you felt, quickly reminded of how truly full you always felt when he was between your legs.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “Fuck, I missed you.”

The admission was unexpected, and your chest filled with a pleasant warmth at his words. You wanted to respond, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to tell him how much you had missed him too or to give him a hard time for being so hardheaded and avoiding you, but you didn’t get the chance.

He pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, hips colliding with your own and forcing the air from your lungs. He held you in place with one hand on your hip and the other supporting his weight against the tool bench. You cupped his face with your hands, pulling him down to meet you in an ironically chaste kiss as he continued to piston into you. You gasped against his lips, moans filling what little space there was between you.

“Say it again,” he growled.

You were confused for a moment before you realized what he wanted to hear.

“I love you,” you managed between gasps and moans.

He thrust into you harder, causing you to bounce against the surface of the table. “Again,” he demanded, voice husky and strained.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he hit something that had you seeing stars. “I love you.”

He didn’t have to tell you a third time, just continued to drill into you as you serenaded him with a chorus consisting entirely of those three little words. As you neared your end, your chant became a jumbled mess of whining and moaning, but to Evan it still sounded just as sweet. Your walls fluttered around him, and you held onto him for dear life, arms wrapped snugly around his neck. His thumb found your clit once more and you wailed. White hot electricity burst from your core and danced through your body, leaving nothing but blissful pleasure in its wake.

You rode out the high, only vaguely registering the way Evan’s thrusts stuttered when you clenched around him. His heavy breathing was like a freight train in your ear, and you loved it. He grunted as he slammed into you one last time, grinding your hips into his own before you felt him spill inside you, seed warm against the walls of your overwrought sex.

You held onto him with all the energy you had left, intent on never letting him go again. He took a moment to catch his breath, both hands now pressed against the workbench to support his weight as he loomed over you. You pressed light, fleeting kisses into the heated skin of his chest and shoulder. You felt him turn his head to leave a lingering kiss against your temple.

“Don’t leave me alone again,” you said quietly.

“I won’t,” he promised.


	6. Gifts (Hillbilly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My part of a writing/art trade with the ever incredible pozemke / hillbilly-wifey on tumblr!
> 
> Request: "For my request I guess it could be Max trying to woo the reader with strange gifts >u< He's not very social savvy but he just wants this survivor to stop running from him D,x "

“He’s here again.”

At the sound of Jake’s voice, you looked up from the gauze you were rolling into neat little bundles. You scanned the gloom that hung at the edge of the clearing, just outside the reaching fingers of firelight. Sure enough, there amongst the shadows was the sinister figure of the Hillbilly.

The others said that he had never been one of the usual monsters that stalked among the twisted trees and dry grass, watching them outside of the trials. They claimed that it wouldn’t be unusual to see the Shape or the Ghost Face, sometimes one might even spot the shimmering silhouette of the Wraith, but never the crooked outline of the chainsaw wielder. This change in the killer’s behavior had apparently come about shortly after you had arrived in the Entity’s realm.

You remembered your first trial, hunted and cut down by the whirring chain of the mechanical saw. Delirious from pain and blood loss, you had hardly noticed when he picked you up, disfigured arm snug around your waist as he hoisted you onto his shoulder. You had screamed, and screamed, and screamed when the hook first pierced your shoulder. Only when your screams had died to whimpers and sobs did you notice that he was still there, standing there, staring at you. He made no noise except for his gurgling, rattling breathing and his glowing eyes never left your pained, blood-splattered face. He was the last thing you saw before the Entity took you.

After that trial, you had spotted him out there in the dark. Those same glowing eyes bored into you from across the clearing. At first you had been scared, certain that he would kill you again, but your fears had been assuaged by the others, explaining that the Entity allowed the killers no closer than the ring of light provided by the campfire. Claudette was the first to note how unusual it was to see the Hillbilly there, but the others quickly agreed.

You wondered what it was you had done. The others said that sometimes killers grew to have a particular distaste for certain survivors. You had heard stories of other survivors hitting, kicking, and even stabbing killers, but you hadn’t had the presence of mind to do so. You hadn’t been disrespectful, in fact he had caught you with a fair amount of ease. You were, afterall, unfamiliar with running for your life. 

Your confusion only grew when, upon encountering him next in trial, he merely followed you around the map. There was no heart-stopping growl of whirring chain, and he never once made to hit you with the cattle hammer. He simply loped along as you ran for your life amongst the cornstalks. You escaped that trial, but frankly you weren’t sure how. It felt a lot like he had let you go.

You didn’t know how to broach the topic to the others. What could you say? That you thought a killer might be letting you live for some reason? Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he saw how much worse you were at surviving than the others, and thought you weren’t worth the effort of killing. Whatever his reasoning, you were thoroughly confused by it.

Slowly, you began to notice odd things showing up at the edge of the clearing near where you typically resided between trials. Small things like bottles of vegetable oil and spark plugs, or the occasional primer bulb just seemed to appear among the tall grass. You took them back to the others, hoping that maybe someone would be able to find a use for them, maybe one of the more mechanically inclined survivors would know what they could be used for. Yet the mystery of their origin remained unsolved.

You continued on as you had. Working with the others. Making offerings to the Entity. Going into trials. Living. Dying.

Eventually, the little objects you found began to change. A number of plastic cattle tags began to appear, littered with the usual assortment of items. They were battered and often bloodstained, each one emblazoned with a worn number in black ink. Any other letters had been rubbed away with the exception of the occasional “Coldwind Farm”. Some of the others told you they used to find those around quite often, burning them in offering tended to result in a trial on the decrepit farm. You held onto them.

The mystery was solved suddenly and unexpectedly.

In a particularly brutal trial, you had been found almost immediately by the Nurse, and despite the most valiant efforts of your friends, had quickly met your demise. After the pain and the blackness, you found yourself awakening at the edge of the clearing. Awareness came back to you slowly, your mind sluggish in the wake of yet another death.

You realized suddenly that you were not alone.

There, only a handful of feet away within the shadows, was the Hillbilly. He was bent over, crouching beside the patch of grass in which you always found the strange items. He was frozen in place, eyes trained on you with apparent surprise. Despite the slow return of your faculties, you understood that he had not expected to see you there. You followed the length of his outstretched arm to his hand, where his fingers were wrapped around something that sparkled in the outer reaches of fire light.

You blinked a few times before opening your mouth to say something. What exactly you planned to say, you had no idea, but before you could even attempt to come up with something, he dropped what he was holding and ran. His twisted back turned to you as he hobbled deeper and deeper into the darkened forest, leaving you to gather your roiling thoughts

You leaned forward, parting the strands of long grass to find what he had dropped. A glimmer of silver winked up at you. As you reached for it, you recognized the shape of a little heart. When you picked it up, a delicate silver chain came with it. As you turned the necklace over, you realized that it was a fine locket. In the lowlight you could just make out “E+M” engraved in it. Had he left this for you?

You were nearly crushed under the weight of the sudden realization that the Hillbilly had been the one leaving all those things for you. You thought he hated you, why would he bring you things? Not just things, gifts. You wanted to ask him. Wanted to know  _ why _ .

Which brought you to the situation at hand.

“I’ll get rid of ‘im,” David declared, rolling up his sleeves as if he was going to do more than yell at the killer standing there staring at you.

“No,” you said, standing suddenly and catching his elbow. “I’ll handle it.”

David looked at you like you had grown a second head, and you could feel the eyes of the others on your back, but eventually the scrapper relented. “Fine. Have at it.”

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders before marching towards the edge of the firelight. You could feel the comforting weight of the locket around your neck as you closed the distance between the Hillbilly and yourself. You wanted answers, and there was no time like the present to get them.


	7. Single (Hillbilly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Oh god oh pLEASE,, I need Max in my life, I love him so much, he's just,,, holy hell - bbbut here's the Blurb/HC request - A s/o that grows interested with him in trials overtime, and just, at some point while carrying them to a hook, just goes all 'This may be a bad time, but you wouldn't happen to be single, would you?' "

It wasn’t  _ fair  _ of the Entity to do this to you. This was torture of a new intensity. To put  _ him  _ in front of you like some kind of… Forbidden Fruit. Well, the joke was on tall, dark and spidery if it thought that would deter you. You were more than willing to take a bite of this particular fruit and have yourself ejected from the Garden of Eden. This place wasn’t exactly a paradise anyway.

Paradise felt like it was close at hand when you were in trials. Well, trials with  _ him _ . Maybe you were insane. You didn’t care. You would vault windows and pallets just a little too slow, let him pull you off the generators, and even get in lockers loudly so that he could yank you out of them. You were hopeless, a complete fool for the one that the others call the Crooked or the Hillbilly.

You found yourself tossed over his shoulder as he hobbled his way towards a hook. His warped, twisted arm wrapped snugly around your waist and causing you to fantasize about other situations in which he would wrap his arms around you. You listened to his gurgling, labored breathing and wondered what it would sound like if you could get him panting. Your body felt like it was on fire.

He shifted you so that he lifted you with his hands under your arms. You were face to face with him. Even though you knew that what came next would be the unbearable pain of a hook, you couldn’t help the words that escaped your lips.

“This may be a bad time, but you wouldn’t happen to be single, would you?”


	8. NSFW: Eat Your Heart Out (Hag w/ Male Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Hey I absolutely love your work! Could you possibly write a nsfw with the Hag and a male reader? A million bonus points if the reader ends up dying in the end! Thank you so much!"

You had always been adventurous. Even when you were young, your mother had warned that your penchant for curious exploration would get you into trouble. As you grew older, that adventurous streak became more of an addiction. You sought the biggest thrills and the greatest risks, but it was never enough. You and danger became scandalously, unconscionably intimate.

However, this had to be the most reckless thing you had ever done.

She herself seemed to be made of the very swamp she called home, molded from the mud and clay. Her hair was more vines and vegetation than anything else, and a small part of you wondered what it had looked and felt like before all this. She was lean and lithe, stalking through the swamp completely unaffected by the grasp and pull of the mud that weighed you down and slowed your steps.

You had been enthralled since the first moment you saw her, elongated talons carving through the back of your fellow survivor. She stood over them and let their drip into her open mouth, the crimson painting her tongue and fingers. A wave of heat flowed through you, unbidden, to settle in your groin. She was lethal, a predator unlike any you had ever encountered. You fell under her spell immediately.

You never expected to get up close and personal with the killer that the other survivors referred to as The Hag, at least not in the way you wanted. Imagine your delight when you finally did.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One after another, your fellow survivors fell and were sacrificed, their last breaths leaving them as shrieks into the night when the Entity took them into its dark embrace. Silence overtook the swamp when the final spectral form was lifted from the trial area. You were alone with her, but she had the home field advantage.

You crept slowly through the cattails, trying to disturb them as little as possible all while maintaining a close eye on the crows perched a scant few meters away. Should they take flight now, your position would be revealed and you would have next to no chance of escaping. Your feet and calves were caked in mud, and with every step you felt like you were being sucked down, down into the swamp as if it were hungry for you, body and soul, anxious to make you part of it. You wondered idly if that was what had happened to her.

Your nose and lungs were filled with the pungent, musky scent of the swamp. That ever present and overpowering smell of stagnant water and decay combined with the underlying scent of gasoline from a nearby generator assaulted your senses, causing your eyes to water. You listened to the puttering of machinery and the occasional squawk of the crows that watched you with unnerving black eyes, but you did not hear the Hag.

You glanced over your shoulder for just a moment too long, not watching where you were going and not paying attention to the anxious shuffling of talons and feathers upon the nearby rock. You realized your mistake when the disturbed avians took flight, announcing your presence with their shrill cries and beating wings. You froze, waiting for the telltale rapid beat of your heart or the gurgling hiss of her breathing down your neck. Waiting was a mistake.

Sooner than you could react, you heard the slap of her feet against the mucky ground and your heart was in your throat just as suddenly. She wasn’t as fast as some of the other killers, but she was faster than you, especially when you were wading through mud and foliage. You caught a glimpse of her before you propelled yourself forward, moonlight streaming through the tree limbs and hanging spanish moss dappled upon the root-like texture and pattern of her greyed skin. You realized with a sort of reverence that she was a true force of nature.

The rake of her clawed fingers down your back came much sooner than expected. She sliced through the fabric of your shirt and jacket, and your skin and muscle tore just as easily. You cried out at the pain, but it was numbed by the adrenaline coursing through you. You pushed on, and tried not to imagine her tasting your blood as you knew she would be. Such thoughts were more distracting than you could afford.

She was on you again before you could run more than a couple meters, but this time instead of the bite of claws against your skin you were shoved to the ground by the full force of her weight against your back. Your mouth was full of mud, the taste of stagnant water and silt making you gag. She was crouched on top of you, boney extremities digging into your back and causing the wounds there to burn.

Her arm that wasn’t elongated and clawed reached towards you, fingers wrapping around your shoulder. She shuffled around so that she could flip you onto your back, now looking down at you whilst straddling your hips. The muck seeped through your ruined shirt to intermingle with the blood oozing from the slashes on your back, causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt, and when you arched up away from the ground, she sat more firmly against you and pushed your chest down, claws drumming threateningly against your chest.

Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but to look up at her with nothing short of awe. Even the slightest movement from you prompted her to grind her emaciated hips down into yours and you were keenly aware of the pressure and heat that burned between your legs. A particularly rough grind against your clothed sex had you seeing stars and gasping your pleasure.

Her head snapped to look at you. You watched her take in your dazed, heated expression and tilt her head just the slightest to one side. She repeated the motion and you bit down against the inside of your cheek to quiet what would have been a moan in earnest. This seemed to thrill her, causing her to rock against you with more of a rhythm. She sought to pull more of those needy sounds from between your mud-caked lips, and it did not take all that much convincing on her part before they flowed from you.

You were achingly hard and oversensitive from the friction of her grinding against you through the material of your pants. You reached for the clasp, but she swatted your hand away, making a sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss. Her meaning was clear though: you weren’t allowed to touch yourself. You dug your fingers into the mud, shuddering at the feeling of it squishing in your hands.

She leaned over you, hips still rolling and undulating against you. Her sharp teeth grazed your neck, and you grunted against the pinpricks of pain. The knowledge that at any moment she could bite down and rip out your throat had your already labored breathing coming harsher until you were nearly panting. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against your skin when she licked a trail following where her teeth had scraped.

You whined and huffed when she pulled back and snaked her way down your body, biting down as gently as her razor sharp teeth would allow on any exposed skin she came across. You grit your teeth against the pain, but couldn’t deny the pleasurable tremors running through your entire form. When she came to the clasp on your muddied pants, she looked up at you with those black eyes that were both familiar and completely other from your own. You gazed back down at her through half-lidded eyes, cheeks burning and body sensitive to her attentions. You threw your head back when you felt the release of pressure at your groin as her non-clawed hand freed you from your pants and undergarments.

You felt a bolt of anxiety shoot through you. As wonderful as her teeth had felt elsewhere on your body, you really didn’t want them anywhere near your cock. Thankfully, she simply gave it a couple of experimental licks that prompted a garbled string of moans from you. She sat back to watch your reactions, hand wrapping around the base of your shaft and slowly stroking upwards. The leathery texture of her palm and fingers was a completely foreign sensation against your soft skin and hardened flesh.

Once she had you a shaking, whining mess, she crawled back up your body. She placed both hands on your shoulders, holding you in place. You soon discovered that beneath the tattered remains of what might have once been a dress, her sex was uncovered. She had apparently been enjoying working you up nearly as much as you had, the slickness left behind on your cock as she dragged her folds across your hardened length providing more than enough evidence of her arousal.

The entire situation seemed like a dream, a fantasy you played through in your mind as you stroked yourself in secret while hidden in the shadows surrounding the campfire. It was hard to believe this was really happening. God, how you wanted to touch her. You wanted to feel the raised knobs of her spin, and the tough skin drawn tight over her protruding hip bones. You would have loved to twine your fingers with yours and close your lips around the peak of her exposed breast. But every time you tried to raise a hand, she halted you with a snarled flash of her teeth and growled warning. This would be on her terms.

When finally she lowered herself onto you, you groaned loudly and thrashed your head causing more and more mud to mat in your sweat and blood painted hair. You almost missed the pleasured hiss that escaped her, focused only on the velvet heat wrapped tight around your cock. She tortured you with the slow rise and fall of her hips, slickened walls dragging against your sensitive head. You looked down at where you were joined and groaned at the sight of yourself disappearing inside of her. It looked almost as good as it felt.

Your peak built up quickly as she increased her pace. She had apparently tired of toying with you and was seeking out her own release. The cuts on your back still burned, but the sensation was something to focus on so that you could hold out against the tidal wave of your release that was bearing down on you. You felt that familiar tightening and knew that you were getting close.

You were finally pushed over the edge of your pleasure when she made a satisfied sound and slammed down on your hips, sheathing your length fully inside her. You cried out as you spilled into her, digging your nails into your palms so hard that you surely drew blood. She rode you through your orgasm until you were trembling and moaning from oversensitivity. She sat back against you with a light huff, staring down at your reddened face and considering your ravished expression. 

In the glowing aftermath of your release, you were putty beneath her. You felt weak and boneless as the orgasmic aftershocks shook your limbs. You were helpless and pliant, softening member still trapped within her heat. You realized what would come next when she raised the elongated, clawed arm above her head.

Talons burrowed through your flesh and bone with a deadly accuracy. You choked on your own blood as it filled your throat and spilled from your mouth while the sharpened points of her fingers were still buried in your chest. The pain was excruciating and maddening, albeit brief. As you bled out and choked on the warmth of your life source, you watched with awe and disbelief as she pulled your heart from your chest cavity. The last thing you saw before darkness overtook you was her razorblade teeth carving through the organ in her grasp, crimson liquid dripping down her chin.


	9. NSFW: Finally (Doctor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "The Doctor x reader prompt in which Herman desires her, but can't get a hold of her. So he becomes desperate until that one day when he is lucky enough... 👀"

Electricity licked around your feet and ankles, sparks dancing up your legs. The walls of the ramshackle hospital felt like they were closing in, squeezing tighter and tighter until you were sure you would be crushed. Laughter filled your mind, drowning out your thoughts and leaving you to act on animal instinct alone. Your legs burned, but you knew you couldn’t stop running. He was behind you, his sheer presence pressed up against your back like a wall of static, a wave just waiting to crash down upon you and pull you under.

You were the only one left. You had barely had time to ask Ace who he thought the killer was upon awakening in the courtyard before you heard Dwight’s scream from deeper within Léry’s Memorial Institute. The Doctor was unsettling enough to come up against in a trial, but as time went on, the more he seemed to fixate on  _ you  _ specifically. He had a way of getting inside your mind. He had taken root amongst your thoughts and showed you things in the static. Images,  _ fantasies _ . You weren’t sure if they belonged to your own scattered mind or his. They were exhilarating. Mad, lusty conjurations of the mind that set your body aflame, but the prospect of indulging in your dark curiosity was terrifying.

Dwight had been the first to fall, the Entity tearing its way into the trial arena to pluck his corpse off the hook for its own. You and Ace managed to finish two generators between you. Adam completed a third before being caught and killed, brain fried with a pulse of electricity. You parted ways with Ace then, ostensibly to complete the final two generators, but you both knew the unspoken truth of the situation: if one of you was caught, then the other would at least have a chance at escape. It hadn’t taken long at all for that exact scenario to become reality. Far too soon after you knelt behind a generator, you heard Ace’s agonized screaming followed by oppressive silence, broken only by the buzzing of a nearby static-filled monitor.

For a moment, you were frozen in place, paralyzed by the knowledge that now it was just you and Him. A thrill ran through you. What was to stop you from acting on all those illicit fantasies now? You knew he was coming for you. You could wait and let him have his way with you, let him drive you insane in a whole new way. On the periphery of your thoughts you recognized that your heartbeat had picked up speed, and realized belatedly that it wasn’t due to the flurry of heated imaginings that played out behind your eyes.

He rounded the corner and your breath caught in your throat. He cut an imposing figure, standing tall in the center of the hallway. One fist was raised, familiar sparks flickering around his fingers and traveling up and down his arm with minds of their own. His unnatural, forced grin seemed broader somehow. Mirth and hunger tangled in his wide, bulging eyes as they focused in on you. 

“I’ve found you,” his voice seemed to come from all around you, just as his unhinged laughter always did.

Your mind and body were in a desperate war with each other, centered completely on the direction in which you were going to run. He took a step towards you, breaking you out of your temporary paralysis and convincing you to turn tail and sprint off in the opposite direction. You heard his spasmodic laughter follow your retreating form along with the pounding of your heart in your ears. He was faster than you, long legs eating up the space between you in no time at all.

You took every twist and turn you could in a desperate bid to lose him, vaulting windows and sliding across fallen pallets. The winding, discombobulating maze that was the hallways of Léry’s Memorial Institute seemed to spin you round and round like you were stuck on some sort of nightmarish carousel until finally it spit you out in a room unlike any other you had seen there. You could almost believe that the Entity had transported you somewhere else entirely. A chandelier flickered above your head, half of the bulbs broken and rendered useless. Wood paneling and bookshelves occupied a good portion of the walls. What wasn’t housing countless books, the natures of which you could not discern, boasted faded cream and grey striped wallpaper that had begun to peel away from the plaster over the course of its decay. What must have once been a rich, expensive rug spanned the majority of the wooden floor, now covered in dust and frayed in places. A large, mahogany executive desk was slightly off-center with a high-backed armchair pulled out behind it as if the occupant had just left for a few moments. Across from the desk was a wall-mounted mirror, bordered in a dirty but intricately designed frame. You could hardly see a thing in the tarnished surface of the mirror, peering closely into it’s dark reflection and searching the vague shapes for your own countenance. 

A sudden sparkle of bluish light in the cracked glass startled you from your contemplation of your surroundings, and you spun around with a gasp. The Doctor loomed in the arched doorway, electricity arcing and crackling brightly around him in a blue-tinged halo of light. The sharp sound of his breathing as it whistled through his exposed teeth fell across your eardrums in harsh waves. He hardly hesitated on the threshold, closing on you with purposeful strides. You scrambled back until your body hit the desk. You reached out a hand to steady yourself, but only succeeded in knocking a stack of old books onto the floor, sending loose papers scattering.

When you turned back to look at the doctor, you came face to face with the blood splattered front of a familiar white lab coat. You allowed your eyes to slowly travel upward, feeling very much the deer about to become acquainted with the grille of a speeding truck. A jolt went through you when you met his eyes. They were trained directly on you, incandescent irises glowing entrancingly. He reached for you and you let him, never flinching as his large hands circled your waist. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, bringing you to rest on the edge of the desk with your legs dangling over the side. You twisted your fingers into the front of his coat, clinging to him like some sort of depraved lifeline. You pleaded with your eyes, begging him for something you dare not name.

Beginning with the buttons on your shirt, he worked methodically to divest you of your clothing. You couldn’t be sure if he had somehow hypnotized you with his presence, or if the unparalleled surreality of the situation prevented you from thinking straight, but you let him strip you until you sat before him completely bare while he had somehow maintained all of his clothing, looking far more composed than he had any right to be.

“Please,” you whispered, clinging all the harder to his lab coat.

He looked at you expectantly, seemingly waiting for you to continue your plea. You couldn’t breathe life into the sentiment of every deviant thing you wanted him to do to you, so you settled for allowing your hands to release his lapels and travel down the length of his torso until your fingers found the leather of his belt. You stripped him slowly, peeling away layers of clothing until his hands stopped your eager fingers at his fly. 

He simply stood there. He looked down at you with that forced, macabre grin and perpetually glowing eyes. His gaze swept over your form until you were trembling from more than just the chilled air. You knew it was on purpose, you knew each moment was calculated just to torture you. You wanted him so badly, if the electricity didn’t drive you crazy then the anticipation would.

When it appeared that he had had enough of simply observing you, his massive hands took hold of your thighs and parted them to accommodate the width of his hips. He moved to press in towards you in one fluid motion. You whimpered as his clothed sex brushed across your arousal slickened folds. His already wheezing breathing seemed to stutter and stall, the only slip in composure you had encountered thus far. 

One of his hands dipped between your thighs and you whimpered pitifully as his fingers teased at your entrance. He was immense and as he loomed over your bare body, you felt so small, so powerless. Your every nerve ending was alight with charged desire.

Your mind was spinning-- twirling, twirling, twirling endlessly. Your face burned, your body quaked. Your core ached and dripped with desire. You needed him inside you, you would admit it willingly. You would scream it for the whole world to hear if that was what he wanted.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he entered you. Pain flashed like a warning light across your senses. You hadn’t even heard the sound of his zipper, hadn’t noticed the heft of his length as it brushed your lower lips. It was only when he was splitting you open, threatening to tear you in half, that your mind snapped back to reality.

You cried out, scream lighting up the electrically charged air around you. His wheezing seemed to buzz through you on two frequencies as he caged you in with his arms. Tears burned your eyes, but through their bleariness you could make out the cracked and charred lines in his skin, broken by glowing pulsing wires and cables. A fleeting query danced around your thoughts, begging to know whether his cock had more of that same cabling. 

You whined as he pulled back, cock dragging along your strained walls. The sound was desperate and involuntary, but was quickly followed by a gasp as he thrust back in and stretched you past capacity once more. Your breath seemed to rattle in your lungs in time with the uncontrolled tremors of your sweat-slicked body. He repeated the motion and you heard yourself make a keening sound. Then again. And again. And again.

Pleasure boiled in your core, singing your nerves like you were being electrocuted. Maybe you were. You didn’t care. 

It was everything you had never allowed yourself to imagine. The way he felt inside you was better than any fantasy could have conjured. You had thought you would have felt guilty for the dark indulgence, but all you felt was ecstasy, bone-deep and all consuming.

Your nails dug into the desk, scraping up the varnish as you floundered for something to hold you in place. Loose papers whispered and bit into your bare skin as you were rocked into the surface. You looked up into his face only to find his horrifying, hypnotizing eyes boring into you. He was watching every flinch and twitch, observing the way your mouth formed around nonsensical words and animalistic sounds. He never blinked, not that he could, and he never looked away. You should have been embarrassed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed.

You came hard as one of his cracked fingers found your clit, he really did shock you then. You screamed your please, pain, and approval. He laughed that same familiar laugh as you threw your head back and thrashed, unable to force out the words to ask him to stop. Finally, after a torturous stretch, he removed the stimulating digit away from your overwhelmed sex and resumed his own chase for completion. 

You went limp, feeling more exhausted than you knew yourself capable of. You wondered if this would be it. Hypothesis tested, curiosity sated. You wondered if he would be done with you. But at the same time, your mind abandoned itself to that same dark curiosity that had gotten you here in the first place. In the most shadowed corners of your heart, you hoped that the next time you encountered the Doctor, you would be privy to the same treatment.


	10. NSFW: Lullaby (Huntress)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Haha, so I got this idea while I was playing. Imagine a scenario where two Survivors disconnect. The Entity didn't manage to transport them to the Realm. So it would be only you and Claudette in a match, sneaking around the Suffocation Pit... five generators left before you can escape... and a dark sense overcomes you. You are too scared to start working on a generator. Then, you hear a haunting lullaby. Maybe Huntress x reader? NSFW? Take your time. I am sure you have a lot of requests."

You knew there was something wrong the moment you opened your eyes. You couldn’t  _ feel  _ the other survivors like normal. You weren’t sure if it was some bond between all of you caused by the Entity, or some gift natural to you, but you always knew when you were all together in a trial. Not this time, though. You heard Claudette take in a shuddering breath from beside you and knew that she felt it too.

Looking around, your eyes adjusted to the moonlit darkness and you began to recognize your surroundings. You all referred to this place as the Suffocation Pit. The area was littered with various industrial materials and felled trees. You would never grow used to the lingering blackness of the eternal night that had settled over the area, you decided. It always felt more foreboding than even the haze of the Autohaven Wreckers or the reddish gloom of Coldwind Farm. Even still, between the unknown cause of the absence of your fellow survivors and some unidentifiable energy that hung in the air around you, you were more on edge than usual.

Claudette touched your arm gently and you mentally slapped yourself for jumping when you felt her timid fingers at your elbow. She did you the kindness of ignoring how jumpy you were, only gesturing for you to follow her and nodding to a nearby generator that you somehow hadn’t noticed. You followed her automatically and knelt beside the silent machine, movements mechanical as you set to work on coaxing it to life. 

You finished the first generator without problem or interruption. For a heart stopping moment you thought that if you turned around you might find the Shape standing nearby, watching you silently, but your fears were unfounded. You saw nothing.

The two of you crept along to the next generator. This one you found in that same run-down shack that seemed to appear on a great number of the various areas the Entity transported you to. There were the familiar closets and crates, a wooden pallet and window should you need to make a quick escape. To your relief, there were no stairs leading downwards into the dusty, red-lit basement, but there was a chest shoved behind one of the boxes. Claudette motioned to it, offering whatever was inside it to you, but you shook your head. A memory surfaced of a previous trial in which you had been careless while searching a chest and the terrible strength of the Trapper’s iron-like hands had come down upon you to tear you away from your search. You thought better of a repeat performance.

Instead you set to work on resetting parts and connecting wires on the still generator in the center of the shack. You listened to Claudette rummage through the broken pieces and garbage that always filled the chests, metal and debris clunking against each other as she shuffled it out of the way in hopes of finding something useful. You heard a delighted gasp from her, and turned to look over your shoulder at what she had retrieved. In her delicate grasp was a worn and rusted key. It’s teeth looked dulled, but still functional. You recognized the item as the key to the Black Lock.

Claudette quickly shoved the item into her pocket before kneeling beside the generator next to you and setting to work. You allowed yourself a little bit of hope as you continued diligently, ignoring the soreness that was starting to overtake your fingers as you continued to repair the battered, and aged generator. If the two of you could just get two more of these started then you would have a very real chance at escape.Just as you pushed the last part into place, you heard it.

The haunting song flowed through the air. Each note struck you down to your very core, filling you with a myriad of diverse feelings, each as unknowable and unnamable as the next. The one emotion you could identify was an all-consuming dread. It took hold of your body, wracking through your form and causing you to tremble. It was overpowering, overwhelming and you were helpless to resist.

The Huntress.

Claudette was moving to sneak out of the shack, but apparently noticed the way in which you froze. She hurried back to where you stood stock-still beside the completed generator. She took your elbow with far more firmness than she had at the beginning of the trial and dragged you towards the door. You stumbled over your own feet, which had turned to cement within your shoes. 

Claudette dragged you behind a large boulder before forcing you into a crouch with her hands on your shoulders. The melody of the lullaby grew louder and louder, choking the moonlit air until only the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears could surpass it. You felt yourself tremble as the song continued to crescendo around you. You wanted to run, sure that she had found you, but your body was frozen in place.

Then, just as quickly as she approached, the Huntress withdrew. Her song faded as her long legs and bare feet carried her back into the fog. You held your breath until the last notes no longer lingered in the air or echoed in your head. Besides the subtle groaning undertones that permeated the entirety of the Entity’s realm, you found yourself in silence.

Claudette forced you to look at her. You knew your eyes must have been blown wide, scared and unsure like a cornered animal. She had been here for much longer than you, but you could tell that she still understood. She knew what it was like to be scared, to feel the panic that set in when there were too many generators and not enough survivors, to know that the killer was bearing down on you more and more with every passing second.

She held up the key between you, the one symbol of hope you had of making it out without feeling the piercing of the hook or the bite of the hatchets that you had become all too familiar with.

“One more,” she whispered.

_ And then we have to find the hatch _ , you finished for her. Bogged down by the pessimism that one so easily slipped into during trials.

The two of you moved on once more. Your calves burned from crouching, but you pushed the soreness from your mind. There was a generator partially hidden by the trunks and limbs of a patch of dead trees. What bark remained flaked off at the slightest brush, revealing more and more of the bone pale wood underneath. This generator seemed to take an eternity to repair, though you blamed some of the slowness on the trembling in your hands. Once or twice, you could have sworn you heard her siren song calling to you on the wind, but the air was still and silent, so you told yourself it was nothing but paranoia and soldiered on. Claudette did the majority of the work, her nimble fingers making up for the molasses slow stumbling of your own.

You had encountered the Huntress before, had personally felt the sharpened blade of her axe cut you down and the bite of her hatchets cleaving through your muscle and bone. She was an imposing figure, often cloaked in shadow and wrapped in mist, the only warning of her approach was the sound of her humming. The song itself seemed utterly foreign and yet unsettlingly familiar. Both the sound and its effect were pervasive and all-encompassing. It swept through your mind and body, pulling your thoughts and emotions in a million different directions until you thought you might come apart at the seams.

“Almost…” you heard Claudette murmur. “Done.”

A lot happened at once then, the lights above the generator clicked on as it spluttered back to life, you and Claudette both stood, and a hatchet went whizzing past your face to embed itself heavily in a tree. You gasped and whipped your head around to find the Huntress standing no more than 100 yards away, arm still extended from throwing the hatchet that certainly could have taken your head off.

***

Anna knew that this trial was different than others. For some reason, there were only two survivors for her to hunt. She knew immediately that you were one of them.

This was not her first encounter with you, not by a long shot. She had seen you again and again in trials, cut you down and sacrificed you to the being that commanded her hunts like any other survivor. But you were not like any other survivor, not to her.

When she saw you, a need filled her. It was not the familiar need she felt when she took the little girls, the need to keep them and protect them from the harsh Russian wilderness. This was something else, something she was not familiar with. Her body filled with a warmth when she saw the fluidity of your movements. The way your legs carried you as you ran, the way your skilled fingers plucked at the mechanical workings of the generators, and the way you fought and squirmed against her as she carried you to a hook all flooded her with unfamiliar feelings of desire and heat.

She had watched you huddled around the campfire with the others outside of trials. You looked warm, soft, with your skin and hair illuminated by the crackling flames. She wondered if your hands would be cracked and scarred like hers or smooth and delicate like she imagined them to be. She ached to know what they would feel like held between her own, touching her face, exploring her body.

She had never known feelings like these, and they were as exciting as they were terrifying. A tingling began in her core and sparked like electricity through the rest of her body whenever she thought of you. She wondered if you felt the same when you thought of her.

The dark never bothered her. The Russian wilderness was harsh and dark and she had survived it all, but she was growing frustrated with the darkness in this particular trial. The shadows and fog obscured you from her view. Despite her tireless patrol and the fact that there were only two survivors to hunt, generators continued to click on and yet she was no closer to catching you.

Then it happened. She spotted movement between the trees near where she knew a generator was hidden. It was still a ways off, but she was confident in her abilities. Anna readied a hatchet, winding up and holding it aloft above her head. The lights above illuminated and two heads popped up above the noisy machine. She threw the hatchet.

It nearly skimmed your pretty face, if she had been closer she bet she would have heard the gasp that escaped your perfect lips. She briefly noticed the other survivor that was there with you, the girl with glasses that was infuriatingly good at hiding, but for the most part she was fixated on you. Even in her own ears, he song grew frenzied as she closed in on you.

You took off like the little rabbit you were, dashing through the grass and between trees. The other girl took your hand and pulled you along with her. Anna wanted to cut off the hand that grasped you. Something inside her recoiled at the thought of someone else touching you, and it pushed her to move faster.

Anna saw the Black Lock at the same time the two of you did. Adrenaline pounded through her veins, rushing through her body. She knew that little rabbits like you would dive back in their holes to escape, but she wouldn’t let you get away, not this time.

The other girl let go of your hand to fumble with a key, shoving it into the lock. She watched with burning anger as the other rabbit hopped into the yawning blackness. You were close behind, standing just on the precipice of the hatch having watched your friend escape through it. She wasn’t going to make it! You were going to-

But you hesitated.

You looked over your shoulder at her, your wide eyes finding hers through her mask. Just a few more centimeters and you would tumble through its gaping maw and out of her reach, but you simply watched her close on you. She did not slow, heart thundering for fear of you slipping from her grasp once more. Her fingers closed on a handful of your shirt and she yanked you backwards, away from the opening.

You looked surprised as you hit the ground, your eyes widening further when the air was knocked from your lungs. Muscle memory begged her to drive the axe in her hands into your skull, but her heart and mind rebelled against the impulse. She stood over your prone form, chest heaving and body tingling with the thrill of the hunt. She had planted herself firmly between you and your escape, and she had no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

Anna was not sure what to do with you now that she had you. You were not a little girl to be taken home and chained up so that you would not wander into the woods. She knew that she wanted you, but she did not know what to do or how to go about it. The first step, she supposed, was putting down the axe. She turned and drove the weapon into a nearby tree trunk, embedding the sharpened head into the wood with a heavy  _ thunk  _ sound.

Now that she was no longer holding the axe, she saw your eyes lose some of the fear, only for it to be replaced by confusion. You looked as unsure as she felt. Slowly, so slowly she lowered herself to her knees, kneeling between your slightly parted legs. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, causing her to tense. For a moment, she thought you would try to run again. She was relieved when you didn’t.

“You aren’t going to kill me?” You asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

She shook her head.

Anna watched you lick your lips nervously before shifting your weight to one elbow, and reaching towards her face with the other. Your trembling fingers brushed the surface of her favored hare mask, and for a moment she wanted to pull away. She did not care if you saw her face, but her mother had made this mask for her, she was wary of having anyone else touch it. Thoughts of your smooth skin against her cheek quelled these nervous thoughts, and she resisted the urge to stop you. You removed the papier-mâché barrier and her veil fell away with it.

She expected you to flinch or scream. She knew that for the most part she looked much the same as she had before she heard the Entity’s calling, but she also knew that her eyes were no longer those of a human. They were completely dark, but they helped her to see her distant prey. She was the perfect predator, and her abnormal eyes gave her the edge to remain that way.

But you did not flinch.

In fact, you did the opposite. She watched you take in her features, and as you did more and more of the fear fled your eyes until all that was left was a sort of curiosity and some other soft emotion Anna wasn’t sure she understood. Your gaze kept flickering to her lips, and she found herself doing the same. Your fingertips trailed across her cheekbones and down her jaw. She could not help but to lean into your touch.

Anna could not recall closing the distance between the two of you, but she could recall with perfect clarity the feeling of your rose petal lips against hers. They were as soft and warm as she had imagined. She could get lost in the feeling, she thought. She wished she could wrap it around her like a blanket and never leave its warmth.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her in deeper. Her hands found your hips and she dragged your body into her lap, cradling you against her protectively. She sighed when you began to run your fingers through her short hair. You deepened the kiss and pulled her tighter against you. She thought that if you were able you would just crawl inside her and make your home there. She would be happy with that, she mused. She would have been content to stay like that forever, the feeling of you pressed against her and your smell overwhelming and intoxicating her, but then you pulled away and she began to worry that you had changed your mind.

She watched you begin to work at unbuttoning your shirt and she quickly understood. Her heart sang with a song that was much happier than her usual grim lullaby. You wanted her, wanted her the way that she wanted you, the way that she had never wanted anyone else before. She was quick to help you shed your clothing, fighting the impulse to simply tear it from your body. She knew that the fabric would shred easily in her hands, but she did not want to upset or scare you away.

You threw the shirt away, now bare from the waist up, and dove back in to recapture her lips. She was happy to meet you halfway and responded enthusiastically to your kiss. She lowered you gently, caging your body between her own and the ground. Anna pulled away to allow you a moment to breathe. She looked down at you, all pert nipples and heated skin. Your hair was haloed upon the ground beneath you, and hot breaths puffed heavily in the cool night air from between your plush lips. You looked so soft and small and perfect, like a little porcelain doll that would break beneath her strong hands.

But you wanted her to touch you, and she was happy to do so. She felt your fingers fluttering at your waistband, struggling with the button and fly on your pants. She stilled you and took over, quickly undoing the fastening and helping you shimmy the denim material and cotton panties down your legs. She marveled over the skin that was slowly revealed to her, trailing her fingertips over its softness. Once you were properly derobed, you moved to start undoing the various ties, buckles, and laces holding her clothing in place. Anna quickly shooed your hands away, she wanted more time to explore you without the distraction of your hands on her skin.

Her hands wandered up over your hips, dancing across your ribcage to cup the fullness of your breasts She revelled in the way you moaned when she brushed her thumbs across the rosy peaks of your nipples. She followed the urging of her instincts and bent her head to capture one with her mouth, sucking lightly before dragging her teeth gently across it. You took in a shuddering breath and she felt your thighs clench around her hips.

She kissed a trail down your stomach, watching you squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling of her lips brushing across the sensitive skin. Her hands found your thighs and parted your legs further in order to allow her access to your core. She stroked across your folds with one finger, humming at the slick that coated the digit. She realized with a start that she wanted to know what you tasted like and raised the finger to her lips. You moaned when her tongue darted out to taste your fluids, and she realized she must have been doing something right.

A taste was not enough, she decided, unsatisfied by the mere sampling. She leaned her head towards you, breath fanning out across your exposed sex. You whined, the sound high pitched and needy in the back of your throat, and her impatience won out over her curiosity. She licked a strip up the heating flesh and you _ keened _ . The flavor of you danced over her tongue. She glanced up at you to find an arm thrown over your eyes and your lips parted wide around the shape of your moans and heavy breaths.

Anna continued to lap at you, noting the areas that drew the best sounds out of you. She eventually allowed her fingers to join her in her endeavor to make you sing. She slipped her index into your opening, enthralled with the way that you gasped when she curled it against something inside of you. Your silken walls gripped her with a heated voracity that she had not been expecting. She dragged her tongue across the hardened bud above your opening and you made an entirely new sound before clenching down on her finger even harder than before. She continued her ministrations as your walls fluttered and your muscles tensed before finally you pushed her away from the reddened flesh.

She was slightly disappointed, wanting to hear more of your heated song. She sat back, watching you catch your breath and recover. She licked your juices from her lips, quickly deciding that you were her new favorite taste. Finally, you pushed yourself up gingerly. You took a deep breath.

“Let me return the favor.”


	11. Walk (Pig)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "May you do the pig and a serene walk through a forest or whatever"
> 
> TW: Mentions of self harm

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stepped carefully through the underbrush. Amanda was beside you, pig head nowhere to be found. While she may have been physically close, you could tell her mind was a million miles away. Her short hair fell in front of her face in dark wisps, but it wasn’t enough to hide the haunted look in her eyes.

Days like this were the hardest, the days that she was overwhelmed with the memories and the urges. You weren’t afraid that she would fall back into her addiction, for even if she wanted to as far as you could tell there were no illicit substances available in the Entity’s realm, but there was plenty she could use to damage to herself.

In moments of intimacy and vulnerability, you could see the evidence of it on her body. You had run your fingers gently over the thin white and pink lines covering her thighs and wrists, heart aching when you noted that some were more recent than others and not quite healed. Things had been better recently though, no new cuts marring her pale flesh, but when you saw her today you knew that the desire was there.

You had found that walks helped. Walking with her through the trees, the pale moonlight dripping through the dark leaves to dopple the ground and provide some lighting. The two of you walked silently, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Should she want to talk about what she was thinking and feeling, you were there. If she wanted to touch or be touched, you were happy to comply with those wishes as well.

You pushed onwards, thick mist wrapped around your ankles as you ventured deeper into the forest. You hoped the cold night air and the quiet of the forest would help clear Amanda’s troubled thoughts. She had barely acknowledged your presence beyond occasionally bumping your shoulder with hers, or the backs of her fingers brushing your hand.

After some time, you were going to suggest heading back, but you let the words quiet on your tongue when you felt cold fingers slip between your own. She gave your hand a light squeeze. You smiled broadly at her, grin widening further when you saw her green eyes peering out at you from behind the curtain of her hair. You brought your twined hands to your face, pressing light kisses to her perpetually bruised and cracked knuckles.

The dark look was still in her eyes, but you could see pinpricks of light poking through and the corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. You considered the walk a success. You were happy if you could make her feel even a little better and ease some of the pain with your presence.


	12. Addiction (Pig)

Amanda was no stranger to addiction. She knew the signs, knew the cycle with an intimate closeness. She knew the warmth and pleasure of the high. How sweet it tasted on her tongue in those first blissful occurrences.

Every time it turned to dust in her mouth.

What had once been sweet and ripe would inevitably sour and turn to rot. It would fester, rife with decay and decomposing before her eyes. She was Icarus, soaring at first then plummeting all too soon, but never forgetting what it felt like to have the wind beneath her wings and the sun kissing her softly.

This addiction was different. There were no needles to pierce her skin, no drug pumping through her veins, yet she still had that same feeling. The bliss lingered and stayed. There was no fall. The wax wasn’t melting, the wind still carried her wings. The happiness was real, not a fiction she created for a few stolen moments of oblivion.

She craved you. She needed your hands holding hers, tangled in her hair, moving over her body. Your mouth on hers had her obsessed, fixated. She would never get enough of you. But you were one habit she didn’t want to break. She doubted she could quit you even if she tried.


	13. Snow (Frank)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Hi!! It just snowed where I live and I saw you write for all the dbd killers, so can you write something with Frank Morrison (Legion)/reader and it’s snowing? Maybe some cuddles or something cute?"

“You are such an ass!” You shrieked, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

“Maybe,” Frank answered, that smirk that never failed to enrage you plastered on his face. “But you’re fucking me, so what does that make you?”

You felt your blood boil and you ground your teeth as you felt an angry heat build in your face. Ever since you had gotten to Ormond earlier, he had seemed intent on pissing you off. At the best of times, Frank wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but that day he was being unbearable. You had been willing to risk getting noticed by your fellow survivors when you snuck away from the campfire if it meant getting to spend some time with your– well, you weren’t sure what exactly you and Frank were. As far as you knew, what you had was exclusive, but you felt silly calling him your boyfriend. Maybe that was part of the problem.

“You know what, I’m done.”

You turned on your heel, grabbing your coat as you passed the couch and heading for the door. You didn’t look back, but if you had you would have seen the look of shock that passed across Frank’s face and the knowing looks that passed between the other members of the Legion that had been watching the fight like housewives watching reality TV. You stomped out the open door and out into the steadily falling snow. Your boots crunched across the stuff that had already accumulated on the ground in a way that would have been supremely satisfying if you weren’t so blinded by anger.

You did hear the rapid crunching of snow that came from behind you as somebody followed you. You suspected it was Susie, she had always been off-puttingly nice to you, a trait you weren’t expecting from a killer. You were mentally prepped to tell her to go back inside, that your mind was made up and you were done with Frank for real this time.

“Babe, wait.”

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find Frank struggling to get his arm through one of the sleeves of his jacket as he chased after you. The hood on his sweatshirt was slipping down his head as he struggled, and you had to bite back the giggle that bubbled up at his apparent difficulties. He wasn’t funny or cute, damn it. You were mad at him.

He finally got his jacket on properly and caught up, trying to recover some semblance of control over the situation. He grabbed you by the upper arm, forcing you to stop your anger-fueled power walk and look at him. His hand dropped away from you once he was sure you were going to hear him out.

“Listen, I didn’t mean that shit I said before.”

“I risked a lot to come here, Frank,” you said flatly. “I didn’t do it so that I could get insulted.”

“I know– I know it’s a big risk, but I shouldn’t have said that shit. I just– I mean–”

You watched him flounder for a few more seconds before you realized what exactly he was trying to do.

“Frank Morrison, are you trying to  _ apologize _ ?”

His face was red, you weren’t sure if it was from the cold, frustration, or embarrassment, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes anymore. “Yeah, okay? I’m sorry or whatever. Just come back inside.”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch upwards. For as long as you had known him, you had never heard Frank apologize for anything. For a while, you weren’t even sure if “sorry” was a part of his vocabulary. You didn’t want to let him off the hook that easily though, so you quickly formulated a plan.

“Thank you for apologizing. I just need a minute, then I’ll come back in.”

He gave a sharp nod before pulling you in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. It was an unusually sweet gesture from him, but you weren’t going to complain. “Don’t freeze to death or anything.”

As soon as his back was turned and he was walking away from you, you crouched down and began packing the snow into a ball the size of your palm. Before he could get too far, you stood and took aim. With as much force as you could muster, you lobbed the snowball in his direction, giggling maniacally when it hit him square between the shoulder blades.

You watched Frank’s whole body stiffen. He turned his head slowly to look at you over his shoulder, no doubt seeing you struggle to stifle your laughter behind your cold hands. “So that’s how you’re feeling, huh?”

He immediately ducked down to start packing some ammunition of his own. You dove behind a pile of rotting ski equipment and frantically began to pack snowballs. Frank had a head start and you knew that he wouldn’t have mercy on you. You heard more than saw the first snowball go whizzing over your head. 

“Finish what you started,” Frank yelled over to you.

You popped up to return fire only to take a direct hit to the center of your chest, drawing an indignant and undignified shriek from you. A bark of laughter came from your opponent, but that meant that he was unguarded and unprepared, so you wound up and threw as hard as you could. You beaned him in the side of the head, meaning it was his turn to make an unflattering sound of surprise.

Your impromptu snowball fight continued on for many long minutes, with giggling and your combined competitiveness to fill the space between lobbed snowballs and playful insults. It had been a long time since you had had so much fun, and you couldn’t recall ever doing something so lighthearted with Frank at all. Your face was beginning to ache from the smile that was plastered there, and you were soaked through from all the melting snow that clung to your clothes.

Your little snow war came to an abrupt end when you reached for another snowball only to feel empty space. You paled as you realized that you were out of snowy missiles. When you didn’t return fire, Frank must have realized it too. You peeked over the top of your barricade in time to see him stand with a whole armful of snowballs. How did he have so many?!

“Game over, (Y/N),” he drawled, ever-present cocky lilt especially prominent. “Looks like I win. Not that that’s surprising.”

“Ohh, you are  _ so _ going to get it,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling for some idea of how to turn this situation in your favor.

He wove between debris left over from the lodge’s time as a functioning ski resort, intent on dumping the snow in his arms on your head, but a banshee cry and your body rocketing at him caused him to drop it all in order to attempt to catch you and remain standing. Unfortunately for Frank, you had put all the force you could into throwing your full weight at him, and you had definitely caught him off guard. You hit him hard, and you both went tumbling backwards into a snowdrift. You pushed yourself up so that you were sitting on him, straddling his hips. 

“Looks like I win, Frank.” Then, leaning in, you added, “Not that that’s surprising.”

He looked up at you with surprise for only a fraction of a second before he grabbed you by the back of the head and slammed your lips into his. You melted into the kiss, fisting his shirt in your near frozen hands.The drag of his tongue across your sealed lips prompted you to part them for him. You squirmed against him when his other hand slid beneath your coat and shirt, icy fingers in stark contrast to the warm skin of your abdomen.

A wolf whistle from the entrance of the lodge forced you to part with a distinct  _ pop _ . You turned your head to see who had thought it prudent to interrupt, only to find Joey, Julie, and Susie standing together and grinning at the little show you and Frank were putting on. You would have bet money that Joey was the whistler.

You rolled off of Frank and pushed yourself to stand, brushing the remaining snow off of your clothes as you went. “Alright, show’s over.”

A chorus of snickers erupted, but the trio meandered back inside. You turned and offered a hand to Frank, “We should go back inside too.”

He took your proffered hand and allowed you to assist in pulling him to his feet. “Fine, but you’re going to have to help me warm up,” he insisted with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, not releasing his hand as you pulled him back towards the lodge.


	14. Body Worship (Plague)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "you WILL write body worship with adiris pretty please 🥺👉👈"
> 
> I went with Pre-Entity Adiris because I love the idea of Reader being her most loyal follower and the two of you celebrating in the time immediately after she was dubbed High Priestess.

Adiris was filled with emotion that was nothing less than pure elation. Euphoria. Ecstasy.

You kneeled at her feet, looking up at her with adoration dripping from your wide eyes. She felt like a goddess, like she should be by the side of Ea to be worshipped. He had chosen her, spared her from the affliction that swept through those of weak faith. Now she was to lead the people to salvation.

You finished wrapping her foot in bandages, tying off the linen strips. She hadn't even felt when she had severed her toe, full of adrenaline and a righteous divinity. She was galvanized by the true belief that she had been chosen and that this was her destiny. She would sacrifice anything for her god.

“High Priestess,” your voice was soft as you addressed her, cradling her foot in your lap. The title sent pleasant chills up and down her spine.

You raised her foot and pressed your lips to the bandage-wrapped instep. She felt her breath hitch as you began your pilgrimage along her body. A kiss left at her ankle, trailing up her calf, and to the inside of her knee. Your callused hands pushed up the fabric of her robe, dragging it over her thighs to bunch tantalizingly over her core.

She stopped you with a hand pressed to your chest. You looked up at her with disappointed confusion, thinking that she was rebuffing your affection. Instead she cupped your face with her bejeweled hands and pulled you up to meet her.

Adiris’s lips were flame against your own. She was divinity incarnate. You had seen the way she fearlessly cut off her own toe to save the afflicted woman. She had been a vision dripping in gold and rubies, smoke wreathed her as she wielded the ceremonial dagger and offered her prayers to the gods. You had felt that you were blessed by just being allowed to linger in her presence, but now you were enraptured in her embrace.

“Let me serve you,” you begged, voice barely above a whisper. “I will follow you anywhere.”

She did not respond at first, and for a moment you feared that she did not want you for a devotee, that you were not worthy of her. Though you were afraid of her rejection, you had to know. You opened your eyes slowly, lashes raising like a curtain until you gasped at the sight before you.

Her grey eyes were affixed firmly to your face, studying you for any signs of falsity. You truly believed that she could see through you, that Adiris was looking into your soul and seeing it laid bare. You were no longer afraid. You knew she saw nothing but your true devotion.

She kissed you again, surging forward to capture your lips. You were melting, coming apart at the seams and completely uncoiling. Her arms encompassed you, preventing you from falling to pieces. She held you together through it, she could hold you all together. She would be the binding force that saved Babylon, you were sure of it.


	15. NSFW: Mid-Trial (Ghost Face)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Hey there! Can I get some nsfw with dbd ghostface during a trial or something? thanks luv ur blog"

You had had just about enough of the Ghost Face.

He was so unbearably infuriating! Damn him and his ability to sneak up on you! Fuck the way he always managed to grope you and whisper things that set your skin on fire before tossing you up on a hook anyway! You swore you had had enough. You were done with his aggressive flirting and the little games he loved to play with you.

Yet despite all these declarations you made in secret, the promises you told yourself you would keep, you somehow came to find yourself bent over the counter in the Gas Heaven with your pants and underwear pulled down to your knees, and Jed’s hips rolling into your own. You covered your mouth with your hands, hoping that your fingers would be enough to muffle your moaning and mewling. There was little you could do about the obscene sounds that the rest of your body made as he slammed his cock into your dripping cunt.

It had taken so little for him to coax you in here, just a gesture and you were tagging along like a dog on a leash. You let him treat you roughly, tossing you around like a ragdoll and using you like his own personal sex toy. He looked at you like a carnivore looks at a piece of meat-- like something he couldn’t wait to  _ devour _ .

“Ah, ah,” he whispered, leaning over your body until his lips were just behind your ear. “You wouldn’t want your little friends to hear how good I make you feel.”

He punctuated the statement with a sharp thrust, driving you harder into the counter and forcing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a keening moan. 

“Unless you want them to hear,” his tone dripped with an unbearable smugness. “You want them to know what a dirty little slut you are. None of them can fuck you like this.”

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. What would happen if one of the others walked in right now? What would you do if David or Jake rounded that corner? How would you respond to the horror that would paint Kate’s face? You couldn’t bite back with a retort, you could hardly think. All you could do was ride out the waves of pleasure that crashed over you. It was hardly possible to prevent the occasional whimper or whine that slipped from between your interlaced fingers covering your reddened, sweat slicked face. 

You knew the possibility of being caught thrilled him too. That was why he did this. He wanted them to see you like this, wanted them to see what a mess he made you. He wanted you embarrassed, humiliated. He would welcome an audience.

You bit down on your tongue almost hard enough to draw blood when the heat in your core burst with your climax. You felt your legs tremble, threatening to give out under the weight of your pleasure. You went slack beneath him as the aftershocks rippled through you, but he showed no signs of stopping. He pumped into you harder, faster, more ferociously as he chased down his release.

He pulled out just before you felt the first rope of heated cum paint your inner thighs. Stickiness dripped over your sex and down your legs, collecting and pooling in your underwear stretched between your quivering thighs. You didn’t even have it in you to object when he pulled your ruined panties and pants back up your legs, sealing the mess against your sloppy cunt.

After tucking himself back into his clothing, leaning over you to nip at the back of your neck and grind his hips against your backside. “Better get back out there before they notice we’re missing.”

You weakly tried to wiggle away from the feeling of his cum being rubbed into your skin, groaning your complaint.

“See you next time,” he chuckled, the promise laced with mirth and suggestion.


	16. NSFW: Narcissist (Ghost Face)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: "Ghost Face x survivor prompt? Something NSFW? Maybe including his raging narcissistic feelings about himself and everyone else, lmao."

“Oh god,” you mewled, back burning as it rubbed and scraped against the concrete floor.

You were in The Gideon Meat Plant, the unfortunate location of the most recent trial you had been thrust into at the behest of the Entity. You should have known when your heartbeat hadn’t kicked into overdrive, should have known when that tell-tale chill ran down your spine, should have known when you felt eyes boring into the back of your neck. You should have known you were being stalked, and you should have realized that it was the ever infamous Ghost Face behind it all.

Should haves didn’t change the fact that he had nearly been able to rip you away from the generator you had been working on. You ran for your life when you realized he was breathing down your neck. You had actually managed to surprise him, causing him to swing that deadly knife through open air, barely missing the targeted plane of your back as you dove away from him. You had scrambled and run, feet sliding across the industrial floor as you attempted to put distance between yourself and him.

Jed was a mixed bag. You never knew in a trial whether he was going to fuck or kill you, sometimes it was both. No matter what, the wisest move was to run away. The chase hadn’t lasted long.

Jed caught up to you quickly enough, it was always hard to escape in The Game, but instead of the bite of a blade carving through your back, he caught you by a fist full of your shirt and hauled your body backwards to press against the hard lines of his chest. He chuckled lowly in your ear, causing chills to race through you and heat to curl and settle in your core. His gloved hands traversed your body, cupping and rolling your flesh. He groaned appreciatively as his leather-clad fingers took handfuls of your breasts.

You burned with a wild mixture of shame and excitement, choking down the pleased sounds that gathered at the back of your throat, threatening to overflow and spill from your lips. Moaning would feed his ego, and possibly reveal what exactly you were up to to your fellow survivors. You didn’t want him to know just how badly you wanted him, how much he made you ache. You pressed your thighs together in what you hoped was a discreet manor, willing away the desire that pearled there like dew on the petals of a flower.

Your willpower meant nothing to the killer.

He spun you around, forcing you to look at his now maskless face. There was no denying he was handsome, but you would not feed his pride by telling him so. Besides, you had little time to consider the intricacies of his well-formed facial structure before he had claimed your mouth with his own. He was intense, forceful, pushing his tongue past your lips to taste you, and you let him. He left you a flushed, panting mess.

He didn’t even have to tell you what he wanted from you next. Like a penitent sinner, you dropped to your knees before him, watching with a lust burdened gaze as he leisurely undid the buckles on his belt and clasp of his pants. He freed himself from the confines of the leather, and you reached for him eagerly. Even flaccid, he felt heavy in your grasp. The satin skin slid easily through your grip as you worked his length with your hands, never removing your eyes from his. He hardened beneath your touch, and he cupped your jaw with his hand. The leather felt odd, but not unpleasant against your face, and you leaned into his palm.

He soon grew bored of your hands alone, and took a handful of your hair, forcing your head towards his cock and prodding at your lips with the tip. You obliged his silent demand, allowing your tongue to loll out so that you could taste him. You had grown familiar with his flavor of salt, sweat, and something uniquely him. You were addicted, eager for your fix.

He felt weighty against you, you dragged your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the vein there with a sort of reverence. He grasped your hair harder, apparently in no mood for teasing kitten licks and slow stimulation. You were happy to oblige, opening wide before closing your lips around the head. You sucked lightly, pressing your tongue to the underside once more and successfully dragging a groan from him. He forced you down further, nearly causing you to choke as he directed your movements. You grasped at the slim lines of his hips, attempting to stop him from thrusting into your mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time he fucked your throat until it was raw, painful, and near impossible to speak, but you hoped that he would take mercy on you. He seemed to be in a generous-- or at the very least benevolent-- mood, as after causing you to choke and gag while he held you down with your nose pressed to his pubic bone for a few seconds, he eased his grip on your hair and allowed you to pull back. You wheezed and sucked in greedy lungfuls of hard-won air, panting while waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

Jed wasted no time pushing you onto your back before he had pounced upon your prone form like a predator finished playing with its food and going for the kill. He grasped the hem of your shirt and dragged it up over your stomach and breasts. His knife found the center of your bra and sliced the delicate fabric, forcing the ruined garment away to expose your chest to his hungry eyes. You frantically undid your pants before shoving the material down your thighs so that he wouldn’t ruin them. He allowed you to kick the material away, before he surged forward once more and settled himself easily between your thighs. You felt him burning against your core, length dragging tantalizingly between your slickened folds. It wasn’t fair how easily he turned you on.

You bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood when he thrust into you without warning. The tang of copper washed away the remnants of his taste as blood flowed across your tongue. You had just barely managed to stifle your sound of shock at the sudden intrusion, but your garbled moans around the mouthful of blood were almost as telling as the desperate roll of your hips against his as he began to pound into your ravening cunt. That same dark chuckle vibrated through the space, you couldn’t hide your desire from him. A sharp thrust of his hips caused a wet slap of skin against skin and forced a high-pitched, pleased sound from your throat.

“That’s right, baby,” he rasped against your throat, tongue tracing your pulse. “No one else makes you feel this good. I’m the only one that can fill you up like this.”

Your breaths heaved in your chest as he picked up his pace, slamming into you at a near frenzied tempo. Your moaning became your invocation, a prayer directed towards him, begging for the divine mercy of your release. He sought your litany of indecipherable devotion, getting drunk off the sounds he caused, the power he knew he had over you.

Ecstasy took hold of your body as fireworks burst in your core and danced behind your eyelids. You thrashed your head and grasped at his biceps in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, even as he continued to drill into you through your release. As wave after wave of aftershocks rippled through you, you would have sworn that heaven was close enough for you to reach out and grab.

Jed grit his teeth against the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. The grasping of your walls on his cock proved almost too much to handle. His hips stuttered and slowed in their rhythm as he milked your orgasm for as long as he could. Finally allowing himself his own finish when you finally went slack beneath his, body humming and trembling with pleasure and exhaustion. He grunted and came inside you, enthralled with the way you sucked in a harsh breath at the feeling of his seed spilling within your overwrought sex.

He allowed himself a moment to recover, cock still sheathed inside your now sloppy cunt. He pulled out slowly, torturously so, just to watch the way your combined cum spilled from your entrance. He was tempted momentarily to collect it with his fingers and force it back inside you. He liked the thought of you full of him, unable to forget what he had done to you. It would be easy to kill you now, slack and vulnerable as you were, but he much preferred the idea of you continuing on in the trial with his release spilling from inside you as you worked on generators and rescued teammates, all while pretending you hadn’t just had the fuck of your life from the best the Entity had to offer.

He kissed you hard one last time, tasting your blood as you moved your mouth lazily against his, before he stood and readjusted himself. The final touch was his mask sliding back down over his face. He spared you a passing glance before leaving you to clean yourself up while he stalked off to find the others. Playtime was all well and good, but now was time for the real fun to begin.


End file.
